Entries from October 2004

.......................Expressions:n'avoir rien dans la citrouille = to be empty-headed, bird-brainedavoir un coeur de citrouille = to have a pumpkin heart, to lack staminaavoir la tête comme une citrouille = to have a pumpkin head = to have
a migraine (or when your head feels swollen from information overload)

The melon was devised by nature to be eaten among family. The pumpkin, being larger, can be eaten with neighbors. --Bernardin de Saint-Pierre

........................................A Day in a French Life...

The story that originally accompanied this post is now a part of the book "Words in a French Life: Lessons in Love and Language from the South of France." Vocabulary from the original story is posted below.

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

Man at last knows that he is alone in the unfeeling immensity of the universe, out of which he emerged only by chance. Neither his destiny nor his duty have been written down. The kingdom above or the darkness below: it is for him to choose. --Jacques Monod

...............................A Day in a French Life...

I stood in la place* holding my 4-ounce jar of mayonnaise. The store clerk didn't say "papier ou plastique,"* so I collected my change, picked up the cold jar and walked back to the quiet square to rejoin the kids and wait for our ride out of the village of Salernes.

Max and Jackie chased each other along the cobblestones in a game of "Trap-Trap." Max was le loup* about to attraper* his little sister, a.k.a., le mouton.* When she changed her mind about wanting to play (read, when she got caught) Max protested, "Mauvaise Perdante!"*

I couldn't help but wonder what the square would look like during "la saison touristique." The shutters might receive a fresh coat of paint in sage green, or bleu lavande,* geraniums would tumble from earthenware pots, and a lazy cat would stretch just behind some lace curtains.

Presently, la place was somber, ténébreuse. The chipped and weatherworn shutters were closed, empty benches framed the square. No cats, not even a tiger lily in a vase.

I stood there passing the jar of mayonnaise from one hand to the next. I tried to put it in my coat pocket, but the jar was too big, so I settled for warming my hands one at a time.

Now and then Jackie would bolt up, thrusting cold fingers around my waist, threatening to knock that jar of mayonnaise free, for once and for all. "Je ne suis pas une mauvaise perdante!" she cried.

"No sweetie, you're not a sore loser."

I observed the pot of mayonnaise; the label read: "Un goût fin et délicat." A poetic jar of "may-oh-nayz."

Fin et délicat. Just like this French life. Fine. Still delicate. Fitting into a foreign culture has been a silent struggle. (Ask my French husband, who might tell you,"a very loud struggle!")

I realized, shivering there in the square, listening to my two little Franco-Americans rattle on in a language still foreign to me, how my dreams continue to unfold, delicately; on their own terms, not mine.

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

To love to read is to exchange the hours of boredom that we have in our lives for delicious hours. --Montesquieu

..........................................A Day in a French Life...

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

1 to sell off; to sell for next to nothing2. (se débarrasser) to get rid of

Also:une braderie = a sidewalk, clearance sale

Expression:brader les prix = to cut prices

.......................ProverbAcheter ce dont on n'a pas besoin, c'est le moyen d'aller de tout à rien. Buying what we don't need is the way to go from all to nothing.

A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

On a humid and hazy vendredi matin, we arrive in St. Tropez to find the parking lot presque plein. Along the port the artists are setting up shop: a chair, several canvases for sale and a work-in-progress on the easel. Multi-million dollar yachts are parked alongside a dozen or so small fishing boats for equal opportunity frimerie. A restaurant on the port announces its "Menu Braderie" -- a bold offering when you consider that "braderie" means "to get rid of" (yesterday's Bouillabaisse? day-old baguettes?).

We are in St. Tropez ("St. Trop" for the locals) for the famous Braderie d'Automne. 100,000 shoppers are expected to descend on the former quaint fishing village with hopes to "dénicher la bonne affaire."

Not fifteen steps into our quest for les bonnes affaires and we are stalled in a cramped rue piétonne, swallowed up by power shoppers.

"You've got to push." Barbara says. I look up at all these delicate French women and am afraid of crushing them, or at the very least ruffling their delicate chemises.* I push. Pardon. Oh, pardon. Pardon...

In front of every boutique, tables full of discounted merchandise. Kiwi brand bathing suits at 30 Euros instead of 90, GAS jewelry at 20 euros instead of 65. "Ça vaut la peine,"* the women say, as they sort through boxes of bijoux de fantaisie.*

Nothing for sale outside Louis Vuitton's and in front of Tommy Hilfiger's, no tables. The mannequins in the window are stripped. Inside, the salespeople look like TH models. C'est rigolo.*

"C'est..... Trop!" I say to Barbara, as we surface from la foule.*"On ne sait plus ou donner de la tête!"* she says, translating my sentiments into her French.

Early on, I realize I would rather be watching than rummaging. I long to be a French seagull perched high on a colorful striped canvas store,* making harmless tongue-in-beak commentary as the Tropéziens file by, weighed down with chic paper shopping bags.

From where I am, c'est-à-dire,* sea level, in the belly of the crowd, I see a lot of bare midriffs, cleavage and pouty lips. I see men with coiffed hair and shoppers in talons hauts* toting dogs the size of an American football. I listen to the French who say things like, "Ils ont pas beaucoup de choses à brader là-bas."* Or, "Ici, c'est que les vieilleries!"*

We leave St.Trop with four small sacs* between us. Swim trunks for Barbara's son and a few nappes* for my friends and family back home. The sun eventually crept through the fog offering us a free St. Tropez tan, without the jingle cream, without le bain. And we are left with un bon souvenir* of a day in late October à un prix assez bas.*

To read more stories about this French life, click on the book cover below:

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

.....................................Expression:avoir du coffre = (Here, the image of a puffed out "coffre" or chest) = to have the audacity (to)

......................................Proverb:On ne jette pas le coffre au feu parce que la clef est perdue.
We don't throw the chest into the fire just because the key is lost.
........................................A Day in a French Life...

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

I look across to the next line. A man is waiting to check out, a bouquet of twelve long-stemmed roses in his arms--grocery store roses--with their tips darkened and fané,* mimicking the disheveled look of their holder.

"Oh! Mais, je vous ai dit...But I told you...!" this time the lady's husband has returned with Swedish krisprolls and not the apéritif toasts, she had asked for...

I return home with the groceries and hand Max four new pairs of underwear.

I know very well that "un slip" in French is not like the slips women wear back home in Arizona (under skirts). In French, a slip can mean "briefs" for men (the non-boxer type) or "panties" for women. The slips I bought my son are the non-boxer type.

Though it took a while to understand French underwear terms, including slip, caleçon, culotte,* sous-vêtement,* dessous,* bas,* collant,* soutien-gorge* et compagnie*--I eventually caught on, and now have underwear vocabulary under control (though I couldn't tell you what the term for "control top" is...").

In brief: there will be one less stereotypical Frenchman in a Speedo at the beach this summer, which might have some of you cheering "Bra-vo!"

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue doing what I love most: sharing vocabulary and cultural insights via these personal stories from France. Your contribution is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment! Kristi♥ Send $10♥ Send $25♥Send the amount of your choice

"Bonjour, Kristin, I have enjoyed your blog now for a great number of years, watching your children grow up, your moves from house to house, enjoying your stories and photos and your development as a writer. It's way past time for me to say MERCI with a donation to your blog...which I've done today. Bien amicalement!"--Gabrielle

BONJOUR. Je m'appelle Kristi. I write to you weekly from our home in France. Each post is created for maximum French learning. My stories and books are sprinkled with useful vocabulary and provide insights into real French life. Enjoy each quick, educational read--sign up here

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